


Helpless

by Kestrealbird



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Background characters - Freeform, First Meetings, Fluff, Ignis is a Dork In Love, Other, Pre-Relationship, Prom is irresistable but what else is new, Promnisweek, SO MUCH FLUFF, brotherhood era, love at first meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 22:40:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13444911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrealbird/pseuds/Kestrealbird
Summary: Day 1: First Meeting“I am, perhaps, a might more tipsy than I should be,” he confessed, genuinely smiling for the first time that night.Prompto leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “I took a shot or two of whiskey to help with my nerves before coming here with Noct.”“Well if it’s any consolation,” Ignis whispered back, feeling like a child passing notes behind the teacher’s back, “His Majesty always carries a secret flask of liquor to get him by.”





	Helpless

**Author's Note:**

> Listen I waited until almost 1am to post this because its officially the 22nd for me now and GODDAMMIT I WILL GET MY SHIT OUT THERE IF I HAVE TO LOSE SLEEP FOR IT
> 
> Anyway shout to my beautiful friend [Eli](http://onpanwa.tumblr.com/) for being my Beta reader for these fics

The Citadel held the grandest parties, he knew, but when you’ve grown up around them your whole life the magnificence becomes nothing more than background noise. It loses the splendour it once had, and Ignis is, quite frankly, sick of attending them. He probably shouldn't be, but even His Majesty attended them with gritted teeth and a hidden flask of liquor.

(Ignis only knew about it because he’d overheard Sir Amicitia chastising him for having them.)

The current party was more of a gala, really, but without all the political significance and ‘hidden’ affairs. If Ignis took a drink for every time he’d caught someone sneaking off into the bushes for intimacy he’d be dead after the first half hour.

Events like this were open to the public making it a _definite_ security risk, but since they provided free booze that helped him get past the forced pleasantries, Ignis decided it was best to hold his tongue on the matter.

“Not up for conversation today?” His eye twitched at the grin on Gladio’s lips.

“If I have to hear Margarette talk about her fucking baby shower one more time, I might just commit murder.”

Conversation at these places was the actual _worst._ There were only three types of conversations Ignis had ever had at these overpriced glory shows and none of them were pleasant.

The first kind were the Ass Kissers. Roberto had to be the worst Ass Kisser he’d ever met to date - the man had a degree in Pathetically Desperate - not only had he done everything in his power to try and convince Ignis to give him land and more money than he was worth, but when that failed Roberto had turned to Arranged Marriages - all of them failures because apparently he was the only person here who didn’t know Ignis was _gay_.

Gladio leaned over to murmur a warning into his ear. “The Peretti family are here.”

The Peretti’s were the second category; Small Talkers. Pretty self-explanatory, no less irritating. Luckily he had an escape route right next to him.

Smiling far too sweetly, Ignis waved over the Peretti’s, ignoring the panicked look on Gladio’s face.

“Mr Scientia!” Ew. “Mr Amicitia! How nice to see you again!”

“Good luck, Gladio~~” Ignis whispered.

“Wait, what?”

Mrs Peretti hugged them both, her witches nails almost scraping off Gladio’s skin.

“Gladio was just talking about you!” No point trying to escape now, Gladio. “Why don't you tell him-” Ignis smirked- “about the weather.”

Gladio gulped. Mrs Peretti made a high pitched noise of supposed glee that sounded a lot like a dog whistle. Gladio tried to grab his jacket but Ignis ducked out of the way, wished them a good day, and made a beeline for the wine table.

It was easy enough to navigate his way through the crowds, but one look at the people at said table made him do a swift heel turn, grab a flute of less alcoholic wine from one of the waiters, and briskly walk over to a table in the corner. By the time he got there, he’d subconsciously drunk five flutes of wine, and was halfway through his sixth.

The people he was steadfastly avoiding at all costs were in the third category of conversationalists; the Teeth Grinders. Margarette was one such example, but Claire was even worse. The man just had no concept of when to shut the fuck up, and he had this unnatural obsession with his hair. Blood-orange his ass it was fucking _red_. God, these people just made him grind his teeth, clench his fists and pray he didn’t stab someone with broken glass.

The only reason he didn’t was because it’d be a waste of perfectly good alcohol.

A familiar lazily ruffled head of black hair caught the corner of his eye, and he turned to see Noctis, dressed in loose slacks and a dress shirt standing next to an unfamiliar boy.

From this distance all Ignis could make out was blonde hair hidden underneath a hat, torn skinny jeans, studded ankle boots and a zipped up jacket with a Coeurl on the front. Though he’d never seen the boy in person until now, it was strikingly obvious that this was the friend Noctis spoke about so frequently.

He vaguely recalled Noctis telling him that he might bring his friend here if he wasn't busy. For the life of him, he couldn't remember what the boy’s name was, only that it had something to do with-

A proverbial light bulb went off inside his brain. The boy was called Prompto Argentum, and he only remembered it because Gladio had laughed at the fact that his name translated into a type of rare gun; Quicksilver.

Noctis caught him looking at them and grinned, tugging Prompto’s jacket to get his attention. Well, he may as well introduce himself sooner rather than later. It would, at the very least, make Noctis happy.

Noctis walked over to him with a wave, and his friend - Prompto - nervously followed, practically clinging to Noctis’ sleeves like a kitten. Once they were close enough for Ignis to really _see_ his features, he felt his mouth dry up and took a long gulp of his wine to muster up liquid courage, and hopefully ignore the way his heart went ‘boom!’ in his chest when Prompto’s eyes met his own.

Now Ignis was a rational man, and sure he had his own superstitions, but he absolutely _refused_ to believe in love at first sight. Crushes, yes, he’d a few of those himself (however short lived they ended up being) but love was a different matter entirely. There was no rational way that you could fall in love with someone before knowing about them, it just didn’t make any lick of sense, and he had no idea where the ridiculous notion had ever come from. The fireworks you saw were either well-timed or some sort of hallucination - probably a result of whatever drugs you’d have to be on to believe in such garbage - and the butterflies in your stomach were most likely a bug of some sort.

All that rationality went out the proverbial window the moment he got a good look at Prompto, however. Noctis could've warned him in advance that his “best friend” was also drop dead gorgeous.

“Ignis.” Shit he was being spoken to. “This is Prompto.” Noctis smiled, ushering Prompto forward with a gentle, reassuring hand on his back. Their eyes met again, and the mix of blue and violet took away Ignis’ breath straight from his lungs, as if he’d been swept up in a sudden gust of wind so strong it almost felt like he was flying.

Prompto waved, then looked briefly panicked when he realized he probably should’ve shaken Ignis’ hand instead. Noctis didn’t seem too concerned about it, which meant this had probably happened a lot. Ignis put down his glass and waved back.

Noctis gave him a _look_. “Introductions?” He reminded waving his hand for emphasis. Right. Introductions. He could do this.

“I’m ga- Ignis! Ignis Scientia. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Prompto.” Fuck fuck fuck, abort mission, time to drown himself in wine and pretend he hadn’t just fucked this up.

Prompto looked relieved at his minor blunder, relaxing just the smallest bit, probably not noticing that Ignis was in the middle of a _slight_ Gay Crisis - oh god his hair looked so soft and fluffy, how would it feel to run his hands through it? Would it flatten under his fingers, or get ruffled up?

His eyes were so beautiful, nobody’s eyes should have the right to look like that; the colours and shades kept changing with the lights like a hypnotizing vortex. Maybe if he stared long enough he’d be sucked in as if those eyes were a black hole that held all of the universe’s secrets.

Dammit he needed to stop zoning out, when the hell had Noctis left he wasn't sober enough to bullshit his way through this meeting and pretend he wasn't slowly falling in love - which was still absolute garbage and he refused to believe it - thus _not_ creeping Prompto out in any way, shape or form.

As long as he didn’t say anything stupid he’d be fine.

“Are those freckles?” He blurted, before his mouth could register what his brain was begging him to consider. Welp. This was it. His life was fucked and there was nothing left to do but resign from his position, fake his own death and get a new life in the countryside.

Prompto shook with silent laughter, golden hair falling in front of his eyes like strands of silk. “Yeah,” he said, “I have a lot of them, unless you’re too drunk to notice?” He looked at the glass of wine, something like amusement dancing in his eyes.

Ignis chuckled, more relieved than anything. He was falling in love and there was no rational way to deny it. He felt helpless to his own emotions for the first time in his life, and found he didn’t really mind as much as he thought he might. “I am, perhaps, a might more tipsy than I should be,” he confessed, genuinely smiling for the first time that night.

Prompto leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “I took a shot or two of whiskey to help with my nerves before coming here with Noct.”

“Well if it’s any consolation,” Ignis whispered back, feeling like a child passing notes behind the teacher’s back, “His Majesty always carries a secret flask of liquor to get him by.”

Prompto let out a quiet laugh, covering it up with his hand. Ignis felt his cheeks flush as his heart stuttered, the feeling of being helplessly in love already overtaking him. He was too proud to use alcohol as an excuse for his own emotions. He was tipsy, not drunk after all.

“You must be pretty used to this huh?” He watched as Prompto nervously scratched the back of his neck. “To someone like me a place like this is pretty intimidating, but I guess since you were raised with this you don't worry so much about that, right?”

“You know, most people wouldn’t ask me a question like that in such a point blank way.”

“I’m not most people.”

Despite the bold claim, his voice was laced with anxiety, displaying how unsure he was about the lines he was crossing. “I’m rather glad you’re not.”

“Huh?” He tilted his head, confused.

Ignis pulled out a couple of chairs, sitting down in one as Prompto fumbled to sit in the other. It was...endearing, rather than irritating. Probably because Prompto wasn’t stumbling to get Ignis’ favour like so many others had before.

“I dislike these events because the small talk and flattery is just a way to suck up to me given my position. Your...honesty is new and very much appreciated.”

Prompto grimaced. “Yeah. That makes sense, given what Noct says about these vultures.” A few seconds passed as they both let those words sink in. Prompto flushed an embarrassed red, tripping over his words to try and apologize. Ignis choked on his wine, wheezing at the accuracy of the statement.

Once he calmed down he opened his mouth to reply...and saw that everything on the table they were sitting at was off centre and poorly colour co-ordinated. Really? Bright pink and _neon_ green? How much wine had he had not to notice something so _garish_?

“Is it bothering you, too?” Prompto gestured at the... _table arrangement_ with his eyes, looking like he might vomit at any second. Ignis could relate to that feeling.

“OCD.” He shrugged off the sudden explanation, not bothered by whatever response he might receive for it. He’d rather get this out of the way while he had the chance; any feelings he may be developing had a chance to disappear if Prompto responded negatively to his claim. It had happened before, and some of his “suitors” even went so far as to complain about how tedious it was for them straight to his face.

He preferred the honesty instead of the hidden whispers. At least this way he knew who to avoid early on so he didn’t waste his time.

Prompto pointed to himself with a smile. “Autism and ADHD.”

Oh.

Ignis blinked. “I...honestly didn’t expect that.” Wow that felt dumb to say out loud.

“Can't say I expected you to be OCD either but here we are, you know?” He picked up the green tablecloth and threw a disgusted face at it. “Hey, um, how much trouble would we be in if we, like, made this better?”

Now if that wasn't just the best thing he’d heard all night. “I doubt they’d notice.”

They both stood up simultaneously, grabbed one end of the table cloth each, and yanked it from under the silverware, drinks and cookie trays. The only thing that toppled over was a bright pink empty ashtray, which Prompto swiftly slid under the table with his foot.

“Not the most effective way to hide evidence.”

“Too many people to throw it out the window.”

Ignis nodded in understanding. “Give it an hour and they’ll be too drunk to notice.”

Prompto quirked an eyebrow, amused. “Isn't the proper term “merry”?”

Ignis scoffed. “If you want to _lie_ about it.”

The bright pink cutlery and plates were stealthily hidden under a food trolley, and they waited with baited breath to see if anyone would notice.

Nobody gave them so much as a backwards glance.

“What colours should we use? I’m thinking something blue,” Prompto said, holding up a navy blue plate for him to inspect.

“Black,” Ignis replied, “it goes with everything.”

“Blue and black it is.”

Ignis quirked a brow. “I think you meant ‘black and blue’, my dear.”

Prompto made a face. “Blue before black or they’ll know it was you.”

Well, he couldn't exactly argue with that point, now could he? Sighing, he resigned himself to the loss, and gestured for Prompto to grab the blue tableware while he snuck off and exchanged the green tablecloth for a black one. It probably shouldn’t have been as easy as it was to exchange the two, but then Libertus had never much cared for colour coordination, and only nodded a brief hello when he saw what Ignis was doing.

He even helped to straighten out the green tablecloth so that it didn’t look like a half-hearted bird’s nest on the counter.

When he returned to his original table, he saw Prompto gently aligning all the dark blue tableware so that it was perfectly symmetrical and in line with the grooves in the wood. He couldn’t help the soft way his heart beat at the sight of Prompto biting his lip in concentration, almost lost to the world around him as he moved a glass bowl into just the _right_ spot.

His hat was crooked where he kept moving his head from side to side, and his blonde hair looked tousled underneath it. In his eyes was a shining light - an absence of nerves - that drew Ignis in like a helpless moth to a flickering flame in the dying lights of day.

Love at first sight was completely irrational and made no logical sense. Love at first _meeting_ , on the other hand, was proving to be a real occurrence, and thus far more believable.

He walked over with a smile, and cleared his throat to politely get Prompto’s attention. Prompto startled, hair fluffing up from under his hat, and if Ignis hadn’t been sober earlier he definitely was now.

“I got the tablecloth.” He held it out for inspection, secretly pleased when Prompto grinned. With a nod, they both took hold of one corner each, laid it as flat as they could get it on the edge of the table, then quickly moved it underneath everything Prompto had placed beforehand, effortlessly smoothing it out with only minor movements from the rest of the tableware to show for it. Within a few minutes the blue and black sparkled up at them, practically perfect in every way.

“Who the hell chooses pink and _green_ , anyway?”

Ignis shrugged. “A Harold probably.”

Prompto considered this for a moment. “Has to be married to a Susan, then.”

“I wonder if he’ll notice.”

Prompto’s grin turned downright _mischievous_. “Harold,” he said in a shrill voice only Ignis could hear over the band playing in the room, “are you sure this is our table? It looks retched.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ignis responded in a poor imitation of a rich man who’d eaten too many mince pies to be any kind of healthy, “you’re the one who designed it. I specifically asked you to make everything crooked and grotesque to look at.”

“Don’t go blaming me for your poor tastes.”

“Susan, if you don't shut up within the next five minutes-” he couldn’t finish his sentence before he’d started laughing, the mental image of these proverbial people looking confused and arguing over a _table_ was simply too much for him to take seriously.

“Thank god,” he heard Prompto say, “you look less like a murderer now.”

“Well,” Ignis replied, snickering, “that depends on your perspective.”

“Are you trying to imply that you’re a murderer?”

“A lot of things get covered up at these parties,” he nodded, solemnly.

Prompto patted his shoulder in mock sympathy. “I have a motorbike out front if you need a quick getaway.”

“Hm. I have a mode of transportation, various ways to pull off the nefarious deed, and a somewhat _willing_ hostage right in front of me. I’m sure nothing could go wrong here.”

“What makes you think I’d be willing?”

“Would you rather be my accomplice?”

Prompto hummed, thoughtful. “No,” he decided, “hostage sounds more dramatic.”

“Are you done seducing my friend yet?” Ignis jumped at the sound of Noct’s voice, turning to see him standing with his hands on his hips and a cheeky smile on his face.

“I wasn't-”

Prompto smacked Noct’s stomach with the back of his hand, rolling his eyes. “And where the hell did you go?”

“Gladio asked me to bail him out of something.”

Oops.

Gathering his wits, Ignis asked them if they were leaving. A part of him hoped they didn’t but another part hoped they did, because if Prompto stayed any longer Ignis might just gather up enough courage to actually _try_ seducing him.

“I promised I’d take him for a joy ride,” Prompto explained.

“Don't tell _him_ that,” Noctis hissed, “he might tell dad.”

As amusing as that would be, he kind of just wanted to grab Gladio and drag him outside so he could listen to Ignis’ woes.

“I doubt he’d be able to stop you. By the time I tell him about it, you two will be a long ride away from here.” Noctis didn’t look completely convinced, but he accepted the response anyway, and started walking through the crowd.

Prompto hesitated for a moment, then turned back to Ignis with a curious expression.

“Do you use endearments with everyone?”

Ignis frowned, puzzled. “Not usually?”

“Huh,” Prompto said, “guess I’m special, then.” Ignis pondered on the statement as he watched Prompto leave the room with Noctis, when something he had said earlier creeped back into his mind.

_“I think you meant “black and blue”, my dear.”_

He froze, face blooming into a brilliant shade of red, and a high pitched whine escaped his throat as he sunk to the floor, burying his head into his hands. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.”


End file.
